It's been a long year (or few)
by Lady Perditus
Summary: Kamen Rider Gaim. Takatora remembered when his younger brother thought ice cream and band-aids could fix everything.


It's been a long year (or few)

**Summary: **Takatora remembered when his younger brother thought ice cream and band-aids could fix everything.

**Author's Note: **I slipped and got brother feels. (sorry not sorry)

**Disclaimer: **Gaim isn't mine.

* * *

"Nii-san! _Niii-san!_" Was the wail coming from outside the window side of the house. Takatora looked up from his book and tilted his head curiously. Ah, it must've been Mitsuzane then. He stood up and cautiously followed the lamenting cries pleading for him, peering his head out the door. Sure enough, there was his little brother on the ground, cradling a skinned knee and crying loudly.

"Mitsuzane, what happened?" Takatora inquired gently, placing his hand on the younger boy's shoulder. The child's lip quivered but he closed his mouth, staring with imploring eyes at his brother—a silent plea to make everything better.

"I t-tripped," He hiccupped. "It hurts, nii-san!"

"I bet it does." The older brother scooped Mitsuzane in his arms and stood up. He was ever grateful for the fact that he had found Mitsuzane before one of the maids or gardeners had. They wouldn't know how to care for his brother, not in the proficient way Takatora could. "This is why you don't run on the sidewalk. You need to be more careful."

The child's arms tightened around his neck at the scolding. "I-I was just trying something I saw the other boys in the neighborhood do."

Takatora frowned at this. Other boys in the neighborhood? His younger brother didn't need these other distractions. When he got older, he would become his brother's right hand man in their father's company—nothing could interfere with that until then.

"It was a dance move, a-and I just wanted-"

A dance move? A _dance _move? Mitsuzane was above such things!

"Well don't try it again," The older brother's mind began racing with possibilities of distracting the child from such things. Perhaps a new book would keep him inside long enough until this dancing fad blew over. "I can't have you getting hurt."

"S-sorry." The child whispered, sniffling hard and trying to wipe the tear tracks from his face. Takatora ran the pad of his thumb along the underside of his brother's eye, smiling softly. He would protect Mitsuzane. He would always protect Mitsuzane.

"Let's just get that fixed." He said in lieu of an actual answer, kicking a kitchen chair out with his foot and placing his brother down. Mitsuzane stared as Takatora ran a towel under water and rummaged through the cabinets for the band-aids. The younger boy hissed as the towel was pressed against his hurt knee but with a quiet '_shh_' from his brother he quieted down and stilled long enough for the small strip to be placed over the skinned area. "All better now, right?"

Mitsuzane's grin was blinding and he threw himself at Takatora. "You're the best, nii-san!" He enthused with all the genuine knowledge of an innocent child. "You make everything better!"

Takatora couldn't help but smile in return. Ah, if only his younger brother could stay like this forever. "Now, how about we go out and get ice cream?" He was sure his father wouldn't mind. They certainly had enough money—and it's not like he would even know they went out, unless a servant ratted them out. Besides, Takatora's work could wait.

Mitsuzane hopped up and grabbed his older brother's hand, his hurt knee already forgotten about.

At the time, Mitsuzane had been seven.

Takatora was almost nineteen.

Now, almost ten years later, Takatora wasn't sure where the time had gone and didn't realize just how much things had changed.

"Mitsuzane, just let me—" He tried to reach out. He wanted to help—he wanted to protect Mitsuzane. But his younger brother shied away, cradling a bloody shoulder with fingers already stained with red, trying to hide a grimace.

"Ah, no, nii-san, it's fine, I'll just go to the infirmary—don't worry about it."

Takatora bit his tongue. If only the years hadn't gone by so quickly—or so slowly. It had been a longer ten years than he remembered, then.


End file.
